


The Lion Of The North

by YamBohemian12



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Companions, Genocide, High King Dragonborn, High King Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl Ralof of Bruma, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Pining, Politics, Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Stormcloak Victory, Unrequited Love, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamBohemian12/pseuds/YamBohemian12
Summary: Set 10 years after the events of Skyrim.A decade after the liberation of Skyrim, Ulfric Stormcloak suddenly dies, leaving no obvious heir to the throne. With the Empire in shambles and the Aldmeri Dominion stronger than ever, a new High King must be crowned in order to prevent the newfound prosperity and independence of Skyrim from being destroyed by the Thalmor.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ulfric Stormcloak, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas
Kudos: 5





	The Lion Of The North

The letter came in unceremoniously. A simple courier had delivered it to the Dragonborn’s estate not far from Whiterun. 

“A letter, from the High King.” The courier stated, simply.

Nikolai, the Dragonborn, was puzzled. Ulfric did not often send letters, as he was usually immensely busy. That’s when he noticed it. The seal, a black wax affair with the symbol of Talos imprinted into it. His heart sank. He slowly opened the letter. 

_ Addressed to Nikolai Ysmir Stormblade of Whiterun, Dragonborn, Thane of Windhelm and Dawnstar, and Harbinger of the Companions. _

_ I must inform you on behalf of the High King, that, as of the eve of Tirdas, High King Ulfric Stormcloak has passed away. While we understand it is necessary to grieve, you are also being required to attend the council that will be held in Windhelm, at the Palace of Kings, on Fredas this week. There the details of succession will be determined by the Jarls and other officials, particularly as to whether or not a moot will be held. You are allowed to bring your spouse with you, however it is advised you seek an individual to tend to your estate in your stead. News of the High King’s death should not be spread, lest chaos grip Skyrim. _

_ With condolences, Jorleif, steward of Ulfric Stormcloak, May Talos guide him. _

Shock and despair filled Nikolai upon concluding his reading. This must have shown on his face, as his husband quickly took notice.

“What’s wrong, my love? What came in?” Vilkas asked, comfortingly.

“The HIgh King is dead, Vilkas. Ulfric is dead.” Nikolai spattered.

“What?” Vilkas stirred. “When did this happen? How did this happen?”

“He passed Tirdas, at night it seems.” Nikolai was still in disbelief.  _ How could this happen. _

Nikolai began gathering equipment and traveling gear. 

“What are you doing?” Vilkas asked.

“I am required to attend council in Windhelm on Fredas. Send for Lydia or Gregor, we need guards for Heljarchen Hall, as well as to look after Francois. Lucia will probably be attending the council anyways with Jarl Ralof.” Nikolai continued readying his things. “Vilkas, dear, go ready your armor.”

“Yes dear.” Vilkas hurried to the armory to grab his things.

Francois suddenly approached Nikolai, seemingly stirred by all the racket.

“Papa, what’s going on?” Francois asked. He was the younger of the Dragonborn’s two adopted children, being several years younger than Lucia, who was now an adult. Francois was growing into a man quickly, having just turned 16, but his naive nature meant he still had to be closely guarded.

“Me and your father have to go to an important meeting. A business trip.” Nikolai rested his hand on Francois’ shoulder. “Lydia or Gregor will be looking after you while we’re gone. Do you want to stay here or spend the time at Breezehome?”

“I don’t wanna be here alone. Can I go to Whiterun?” Francois asked.

“Of course. Take the carriage though, please. I don’t want you making that journey by foot alone.”

Francois nodded and also left to his room to begin packing his things.

* * *

After Vilkas and Nikolai had finished packing things, they decided to take the carriage with Francois to Whiterun, so their journey would be somewhat quicker. The ride to Whiterun was solemn and quiet, with neither Vilkas nor Nikolai speaking much, despite Francois’ best efforts. It took about an hour to arrive at Whiterun’s gates, where the two men said their goodbyes to their son. 

“Alright, Markus, take us to Windhelm, kindly.” Nikolai called out. 

“You going to see Ulfric?” Markus, the carriage driver, asked.

Nikolai swallowed for a moment, feeling a temper rise.

“Just take us there, no questions.” Nikolai hissed.

The roads were quiet throughout the journey. In the years after the civil war, a good chunk of foreign travel throughout Skyrim had slowed tremendously, so many of the once busy roads were now fairly quiet, especially the mountain paths. Still, despite this lack of foreign travel, Skyrim had somehow managed to survive the revolution, thanks mostly to Ulfric’s leadership.  _ I still can’t believe he’s dead,  _ Nikolai thought. Ulfric to many seemed like more than a man, especially given his feats in rebuilding Skyrim. The holds had bounced back remarkably from the war, bolstered by the newly nationalized silver mines in the Reach, and there were many national projects that helped develop Skyrim. Even the desolate Hjaalmarch had been transformed in recent years, with one of the crowning achievements of Ulfric’s reign being the reclamation of Morthal’s swamps from the sea in a system of polders, turning the sludge into bountiful farmlands, and by extension, growing Morthal into a proper city worth of its hold. Many previously small cities had grown tremendously during his reign. Of course, the war still had its toll, especially since it didn’t fully end with the liberation of Skyrim. Much to the suffering of the Nords, the Empire continued to attack Skyrim, despite their weakened state. Fortunately, the revolution in Skyrim seemed to echo throughout the land, with many other subjugated provinces beginning revolts of their own. Expertly exploiting this period of weakness, Ulfric managed to take a few provinces further from the Empire, most notably the Nordic province of Bruma, where he soon installed one of Nikolai’s wartime friends as Jarl, the honorable Ralof of Riverwood, who would eventually wed Nikolai’s daughter Lucia. Of course, this weakness was exploited by the Aldmeri Dominion as well, and within 5 years, the Empire was reduced to a puppet state, completely humiliated, having finally lost its tenure as the zeitgeist of Tamriel. But all this prosperity could come to an end with Ulfric’s death, especially since there was no clear line of succession.  _ The Thalmor would be stupid not to exploit this sudden development. _

Of course, there was still Nikolai, the Dragonborn, who, in many respects, was considered to be the most powerful man in Tamriel. At just 18 and having defeated Alduin, the devourer of worlds, as well as having been the largest deciding factor in the civil war, Nikolai was a great source of pride for the Nords, being hailed as a “One man army”. Nikolai wasn’t entirely sure about that part, though. Now 28, he was content to live his life with his husband and children, even having declined Ulfric’s initial invitation to be installed as Jarl of Bruma instead of Ralof.

Nikolai hoped that the transition of power from Ulfric to his successor would be peaceful, but the Dragonborn couldn’t help but notice the sinking feeling planting its roots in his belly.

* * *

The party of Vilkas and Nikolai arrived in Windhelm on the Eve of Fredas, having slept for a few hours before their arrival.

“My lord, we have arrived.” Markus woke them.

“What hour is it?” Nikolai questioned.

“It appears to be midnight, my lord.” Markus said.

_ Good,  _ Nikolai thought.  _ We made it in time. _

Nikolai turned to his husband. “Vilkas, we’re here.”

Vilkas awoke and smiled at Nikolai.

“Did we make it in time?” Vilkas asked, yawning.

“Yes, we’re a bit early.” Nikolai jumped off of the cart before helping Vilkas off.

The two saluted Markus, and began heading through the gates of the old city of Windhelm. It had grown tremendously since the time of the war, with several new quarters and walls being built further along the river.  _ This is Ulfric’s domain,  _ Nikolai thought,  _ This was. _

It would take a lot of getting used to that the old man had passed.  _ He’s in Sovngarde with his brothers and sisters now.  _

The city was quiet at this hour, not even drunkards present in the street. Nikolai and Vilkas made their way to the steps of the Palace of Kings, and took a deep breath before entering.

Inside, they were immediately greeted by a frantic Jorleif, who looked as though he hadn’t gotten any sleep for the past few days.

“Ah, Ysmir! By the gods, you’ve arrived. It’s good to see you. You’re among the first, though I expect that others will be arriving shortly. Come sit and have a drink with me.” Jorleif sounded like he was trying to be cheery and welcoming, but his words had an empty hollowness to them.

“Who has arrived already?” Nikolai asked. Vilkas was already shaking hands with Jorleif, and they seemed to have laughed about something, albeit half-heartedly.

“Ah, yes. Jarl Korir of Winterhold arrived yesterday, along with the Archmage of the College, er, the cat. Jarl Skald the Elder arrived earlier today, though in frail condition. He is baffled to have outlived the High King, it seems. Those are all who have arrived so far, though I expect the Jarls of The Rift and Whiterun should be arriving soon.” A great creaking shuddered throughout the hall. “Ah, speak of the daedra, that must be them!” he hurried over to the door, where the Jarls had begun entering. “Please, Dragonborn, go rest in one of the chambers, you must be prepared for tomorrow’s council.” Jorleif began greeting the Jarls, who all seemed to be rather weary of the whole situation.

Nikolai and Vilkas took their leave and went to the guest wing, quickly finding a room in which they could rest. The two collapsed on the bed, falling fast asleep within minutes.

* * *

The morning was hectic, with the Palace being filled to the brim with the Jarls and other notable people from around Skyrim. Nikolai and Vilkas dressed in black for the meeting before heading to the main hall where all the attendees were gathered. Nikolai spotted Lucia waving to him, as well as her husband, and Nikolai’s friend, Ralof flashing a weak smile. Nikolai didn’t expect anyone to be able to remain cheery during this ordeal, but he appreciated the attempt. All the Jarls were in attendance, as well as a few others; Archmage J’zargo of the College of Winterhold, General Galmar Stone-Fist, and of course, the Jarls’ spouses and Housecarls. A moment was allowed to give everyone some time to chat amongst themselves, but after thirty minutes, Jorleif called the room to attention.

“Jarls and other people of great importance present, you have all been called here in order to discuss the passing of HIgh King Ulfric Stormcloak, as you have been made aware of via the letters that had been sent to you. This comes as a great shock to many of you, however I and Galmar knew this had been coming for a while now. You see, Ulfric in the months prior to his death had become afflicted with a terrible illness, one that we were unable to find a remedy for. It shook his body, it terrorized him.” Jorleif appeared to be distressed. “But even in his sickness, he continued to serve the people of Skyrim.” Jorleif cleared his throat. “All of you no doubt have expectations that we shall convene a moot, due to Ulfric’s passing without an apparent heir. I, however, must inform you that this is not the case.” The room gasped, muttering various things of scandal. “I am here to read you all a relevant excerpt from the last will and testament of High King Ulfric Stormcloak, in particular his statement regarding his succession.”

Anticipation filled the room.

“-by my power as the High King of Skyrim and all her people, my will is this: upon my passing, the crown shall fall upon the head of my heir and successor: Nikolai Stormblade, Ysmir, Harbinger of the Companions, is to be crowned High King upon my death.”

Shock, Disbelief, Intrigue all filled the room. Loud roaring and protest came from some.

“Settle down everyone!” Jorleif yelled.

Jarl Elisif stood up to protest.

“Is that even allowed? The Dragonborn isn’t even of Ulfric’s issue!” she cried.

“It is unorthodox, to be certain.” Jorleif cleared his throat, beginning to contort in anger. “-but how  _ dare _ you question the Dragonborn’s place as his heir. He played as much of a role in securing independence for Skyrim as Ulfric Stormcloak himself, and the late High King would have no qualms about reinforcing that statement.” Jorleif settled down for a moment. “I had hoped you wouldn’t allow your covetous desire for the throne to taint today’s discussion.”

“I do not hold disdain for the Dragonborn, Jorleif.” Elisif spoke. “And I certainly am not influenced by my claim to the throne. However, I do not know of any precedent that would allow for such things.” Elisif reasoned.

“-The dragonborn himself is without precedent.” Jarl Ralof spoke. “He is the protector of Skyrim, even Ulfric would agree.”

The Jarls sat in silence for a moment.

“Does anyone else have any misgivings they’d like to air?” Jorleif stated.

It seemed most of the Jarls had become agreeable with the terms, despite the unusual nature of the succession. The world would be destroyed were it not for the Dragonborn.

“I ask, is there even a more capable candidate?” Jorleif continued.

“No, I suppose.” Elisif conceded.

“Very well, then. Tomorrow we shall announce the coronation of Nikolai Stormblade, the Dragonborn, as the new High King. In addition, there is a letter specifically intended for you, Dragonborn. It is from Ulfric, written on his deathbed.” Jorleif handed Nikolai the letter.

Nikolai was still in shock from the announcement that he would succeed Ulfric as High King, but he hoped that the letter would answer some questions.

He opened it gently.

_ To Nikolai Stormblade, Ysmir, Dragonborn, Harbinger of the Companions, and Friend _

_ I am sure you are shocked, perplexed even. Of this I have no doubt. You might even hold contempt for me, who am I to be certain. I would like you to know that I believe you are the most worthy of being my successor, above all the other Jarls. Of course, I had, for a time considered Galmar, but he is too passionate about battle to be a good fit. You are the savior of Skyrim, a far greater man than I ever was. I gave birth to the rebellion, the liberation, but without you, the one who nurtured it and brought it to fruition, it would have all been for nothing. I have never told you this, but I admire you greatly. Your importance in the war was always understated, even by me, but on my deathbed, I realize it. I am not the titan I thought I was then. You are truly a special man. Even with your youth, you displayed such purpose, determination, and above all else, skill. But still, why go to this length, to appoint you my heir? Well the truth is, Nikolai, that I love you. Everyone in Skyrim knows that I never married, never fathered children, I’m sure it is brought up even after my death. I had never known love before I met you, truthfully. Initially, it was possibly only lust, I suppose. Your looks and demeanor were endlessly intriguing. But as the war drew on, your personality, your honor, they captivated me. I began to realize that my infatuation with you was more than just admiration of a warrior. I had considered many times confessing to you, but ultimately I could never quite muster the courage to do so. It pained me greatly when you married Vilkas, but some part of me was happy as well. There was regret of course, having now known that we could’ve wed as two men, but I have no idea if you ever thought of me that way. There were many nights alone in my palace where I yearned for your company. Perhaps it sounds pathetic, but it’s the truth. I have loved you for a long time, and with that love came the realization; the realization that you are destined for even more greatness than you have already achieved, to carry on the spirit of Talos’ ambition. You are destined to lead Skyrim to eternal glory. I had erroneously thought that I was the man who would do it, but my mortality has become apparent. I will die not as a Legendary Warrior of Skyrim, but as Ulfric the man. I long for the day where we will once again meet in Sovngarde. _

_ With love, Ulfric _

There was a lot of information to process.  _ Love?  _ Nikolai thought. Sure, him and Ulfric were close, but he had never even thought about anything beyond that. He wasn’t even sure he would have ever thought of Ulfric as more than a friend. His love was firmly with Vilkas, and he doubted this would change that. But still, it seemed rather tragic, having never known this about Ulfric while he was alive.

“What did the letter say?” Vilkas asked.

Nikolai didn’t respond. 

Suddenly, a courier came bursting through the hall, seemingly in a chaotic hurry.

“I need to speak with the High King immediately!” the courier said.

“What is it?” Jorleif asked.

“It’s the Greybeards!” the courier panted. “The Thalmor have destroyed High Hrothgar!”

**Author's Note:**

> Had the idea for this earlier this week, probably gonna make it a series, although the updates won't be super frequent since I'm mainly working on my other longfic. Hope you enjoy!


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